Forerunner's Child (20) (Patreon)

Kit didn’t get to climb the broadcast tower.

She didn't discover as much until the next sundown, when she was finally cleared to go outside and work again. She showed up for another meeting with the Engineering team, and Forerunner interrupted their conversation for a few seconds of quiet explanation. "I hate to be the one to bring disappointing news," he said. "But there has been a delay in the fabrication schedule."

Kit turned towards the wall, her attention settling instantly there. She wasn't the only one. Maddie's ears perked. "A delay? And you only found out about it now?"

"I apologize," Forerunner said, flat and emotionless. "Errors in fabrication are not uncommon. It is just that I typically have the resources to prepare multiple copies of important materials. Unfortunately, I have never had the need to produce a climbing harness at 80% before. I miscalculated the stress tolerance of some of the internal components, resulting in an ascent-assistant device that might fail when exposed to real world conditions."

"Does she need a harness?" Rich asked. "She's a squirrel. Just climb the tower."

"You're a cat. Just hunt your food," Abel countered. 

"Not the end of the world," Kaden said, with his usual relaxed attitude. "We can make the upgrade next time. Plenty of other things to do."

"Yes," Forerunner said. "I will update you on fabrication progress. But I would not anticipate a working harness before sunrise. You may have another attempt as early as next sunset. Assuming I am able to resolve some issues with manufacturing."

Kit rocked back and forth in her seat, frustrated. Not just because she'd spent the whole day wearing half a space suit—only to be told she wasn't allowed to go out.

She was brave, but not brave enough to ascend their transmission tower without safety equipment. Kit had already won the universe's best gamble just by surviving this long. She would not throw it away now.

"Abel, how's the database reconstruction going?" Maddie asked. She forced a smile, but it never reached her ears. They turned sideways, and her tail flicked hard enough into her seat it made an audible click each time. "Are we close?"

Abel stood up, and the table changed to project a virtual copy of Kit's database capsule, and its interior.

"The squirrel's backup wasn't stored on anything as enduring as holographic memory. At that size, the only way to fit it all was to use genetic recording. Across these kinds of time horizons, there's considerable fragmentation and decay. Even with Forerunner's help, it will be a little while before we can recover the backup."

"No guarantee about how much we'll be able to rebuild, either," Rich added. "I have some ideas about how to do data recovery. There's a surprising amount of information suggested about the contents of each file in their checksums. The drive had considerable redundancy too, many copies of each sector. Bioscience is going to duplicate a few billion copies of everything we have left, and see about a probabilistic—" 

Maddie gestured for silence. "Keep us updated. If you get any technical information about the FTL drive, or Kit's personal files, notify me immediately."

Kit looked up. "Me too! I've got family pictures on there! All the letters the Aether received before its power ran out."

They moved through the rest of the meeting, covering each of the others and their specific projects for the next few days. With infinite time, the residents of the Institute didn't pursue anything with terrible urgency. Abel had a simulation running of a mineral based excavation system that would require centuries to build what a team of engineers from Kit's time could build in a month. 

"Kaden and I have a backup project for this shift,” Maddie said. “Kit—I know I said I would send you to the library for study if anything disrupted our repair schedule. But I'd like you to stick around and help with this project. You're something of a domain expert.”

Rich laughed. "On what, getting herself in danger? Sending her to walk to the poles next? Or maybe give her a cutter to go down into the lava tubes and help harvest ore with Forerunner's drones."

The answer proved far simpler—and more importantly, within Kit's expertise.

Since her last visit, Maddie had extracted Kit's ancient rover from storage, where it now rested on raised plastic blocks. At their size, they could already crawl underneath with minimal effort. This only made it easier, and a little safer.

"I couldn't sleep last night," Maddie explained, turning a little plastic screen towards Kit. "So, I came here to tinker with it. Do you recognize these readouts?"

Kit took the screen, her eyes instantly alert. No incomprehensible technology of the new age—this was the diagnostic tablet built into the rover, trailing a plastic cable to the command box. Several warning lights lit up yellow, more bright red. Almost every system showed an error of some kind.

Even so, she smiled, not caring about how silly it made her look. "After all this time, the computer works. That's... amazing! I owe the fab team a drink." Her excitement faltered, tail drooping behind her.

That debt wouldn't be settled now. Like so many others. 

Maddie took the tablet back, turning it over. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. I can't read your language, but I'm guessing these are warnings. The red lights especially."

She nodded once. "The rover was supposed to be as easily serviceable as possible. Everything on the lander was that way. It's mostly solid state—with enough time, I could replace the whole thing. Three motors need refitting, the hydraulics on the suspension need to be replaced. Battery is showing no charge capacity... and the gyroscopes have failed. That's what those mean."

With each comment, Maddie gestured at the other fox beside them, who scribbled something down on his computer. 

"Just those? Then it works again?" She turned the diagnostic panel towards Kit, holding it out in both hands. "Make sure. This isn't for a museum."

Kit took it, checking the warning lights against her memory. She handed it back a few seconds later. "That's what the computer can find. When we fix these things, we can run a full diagnostic, and it should refresh." She walked up the plastic ramp, resting one hand on the controls.

After weeks living in the Institute, seeing pedals and a wheel might as well be something out of a dream. She settled into the polished metal seat, and stretched her legs as far as they could go. "This was already adjusted to me exactly. Supposed to be effortless." She reached up, settling her hands on the wheel. She couldn't see over the controls to the cloudy plastic windshield. "We'd need a new seat too. Might need to bring the pedals up."

She turned to Maddie, meeting her eyes. "Forerunner has transports far better than this. Why fix my rover?"

Maddie pretended not to hear, looking down at the diagnostic display and biting her tongue in apparent focus. "Because now Forerunner is trying to stop us from seeing this. If we told him where we were going, he would say no. I can't order him to do anything that he believes is a safety risk."

Almost as though those words had summoned him, Forerunner joined the conversation—albeit through the speakers of a nearby drone. Like all the other working robots, it stood at twice Kit's height, with a body covered in dents and scratches. Its metal joints didn't all work right, and it favored one leg over the other.

But if it felt pain, the machine made no sign. "There is an easier option than modifying the craft's control scheme. We could tap into the computer and connect it to an uplink node. Then I could pilot the craft for you."

"Nah." Kit hopped out of her seat, moving down the ramp to join the foxes. "Remember what I said about simplicity? The pedals physically connect to the brakes and the motors. They're either on or off—one slow speed. Same with the wheel. It's hard to see, but there are no servos here. The front wheels pivot physically to either side to change directions. Suspension system is computerized—that's what the gyros are for. But the rover will still work. I just wouldn't enjoy driving it."

"Besides," Maddie added, hardly missing a beat. "We already have excellent transport vehicles you control. I would like this rover repaired to function exactly as it was designed." 

The diagnostic display might have writing Maddie couldn't read, but it was meant to be intuitive. The rover itself was drawn onto the plastic, with lights suggesting where each faulty system could be found.

"That does seem to make this project somewhat... redundant," Forerunner said. "But very well. Alert me if you require assistance."

Maddie nodded to him. "Keep two drones around, please. Some of these parts look heavy. We'll need to replace the battery... Kit, do you know the voltages?"

She did. In fact, Kit knew almost everything about the old machine. Parts of her memory had turned foggy and confused, but none of those were her technical knowledge.

For the first time since arriving in the Institute, Kit went from an ignorant observer to the leader in something. Instead of carrying around tools and occasionally helping reach or hold things, she was suddenly the one who knew how everything worked. With her direction, they removed each of the faulty motors for servicing—used a crane to remove the old battery, then every other component the computer indicated. 

It helped that the machine had been designed to survive prolonged storage with minimal or no maintenance. But no matter how enduring they wanted it to be, the occasional capacitor or piece of rubber still found its way in, and these were inevitably the source of the various technical faults.

Kit wasn't sure exactly how long they worked. Time remained an elusive concept to her, one that pooled in deep lakes before rushing abruptly in rivers. Even the biological needs she was used to couldn't work to ground her, since they too were subjective. An occasional watermelon-flavored juice box was enough to sustain her for what felt like days.

One by one, they replaced the broken parts. It didn't even matter that Forerunner itself remained uncooperative—the workshop was filled with bits and pieces of Kit's old ship. If something the Institute kept on hand wouldn't work as a direct replacement, there was probably a working component she could scavenge from elsewhere.

Other things had to be purpose-built, like a battery. Chemical storage didn't really exist anymore, phased out for solid state photonics that followed principles beyond Kit's understanding. When she asked, Maddie just started talking about light reflected in a hypothetical box of mirrors, without ever explaining how the science really worked.

Kit didn't need to understand any of it, so long as the voltage and amperage were right. She didn't have to be her correct size if they could make a new seat and physical extensions to the pedals.

She might have kept working forever, if Forerunner hadn't finally interrupted her. "Kit. You should probably disengage from this project for a time. Your friends will be gathering again soon and would be exceptionally disappointed if you don't attend."

“Gathering for... the game?" She rolled out from beneath the rover, then sat up. "I thought it was once a week."

"It is," Forerunner said. "You have about an hour to clean up and prepare. Given the length of this shift, I suggest you do so. The smell of volatile organics and chemical solvents is... potent. Your friends will not appreciate it."

"He means you stink," Kaden said, from his perch on a nearby workbench. He had a gyroscope disassembled in front of him, every wire and piece of metal suspended by plastic clips. This fox had the manual dexterity to fully take apart and repair mechanical parts from scratch. "And he's right. After a long shift, Maddie usually reserves the bath for like... hours. That isn't always enough for the smell."

Kit spun, searching for the Engineering director. She found her near the rear of the vehicle, where volt probes now pierced the plastic insulation on the power cable for a single motor. She looked up as Kit approached.

Forerunner was obviously right about the smell—Maddie's fur was slicked down with grease, which smeared every inch of exposed skin in layers of grime. She didn't seem to notice. "Kit? Oh. Heading out?"

She nodded weakly. "I think I lost track of time. How long have we been working?"

Maddie shrugged. "Who cares? We're not done!" She set the probe down, gripping Kit's shoulder with sudden intensity. "You're going to the rodent game, right? Come back as soon as you can!”

With enthusiasm that infectious, Kit hardly wanted to leave. Jay and the others would understand if she missed a week, wouldn't they? They'd almost fixed a rover!

But for all Maddie and Kaden's disappointment, the same was surely waiting for her if she didn't go to the game. Participating was an honor! Besides—once Forerunner said something about the smell, Kit couldn't get it out of her nose. "Don't we need to sleep?" Kit asked. "How did we..."

The fox rolled her eyes. "Sleep? When there's so much to do? No. We can catch up after."

Kit left them in the workshop, before she slipped back into the half-waking fugue state of feverish labor that had previously consumed her. "I thought you said you would stop us from hurting ourselves," Kit said, as soon as she was on a transport. Alone this time—Abel hadn't even been there for most of the repair. "That can't be healthy. Staying up for this long..."

"Not all can. Your ruggedized body is capable of prolonged exertion, even without recharging. Over a long period, mental fatigue will eventually accumulate, requiring extended recovery in a semiconscious state."

"Sleep debt. But like—weeks’ worth?"

"Correct. This is why I manage the schedules of events and production in the Institute. Its residents do not follow the same schedule—you may work for days or longer, then spend a similar period in recovery. I find it best not to disrupt these periods of intense concentration—they were part of your design. In my experience, they often result in some of your finest work."

The transport stopped a few seconds later, doors hissing open. "Given your present state, a private facility would be preferable. Take the elevator instead. I have already secured permission from the Director."

Kit obeyed without thinking. These little instructions had always been part of Forerunner's strategy. The trouble was, they were almost always right. Whenever she listened to the AI, things went better.

She stepped into the elevator, and it started moving without input from her. "Why are you helping me?"

"I do not understand the question, Kit. I believe we have covered this subject at length."

She took her tail in both hands—only it wasn't the soft, comfortable texture she was used to. Her hands came away a little sticky with grime. That explained the painful itching that she'd been trying very hard to ignore.

"You don't want us to repair the rover," she said. "You wouldn't fabricate things for us like usual."

"This is a plausible theory," Forerunner said. His words remained emotionless—but that too was a tell. Machine or not, Forerunner had the same range of feelings as everyone else in the Institute. He might be driven by different stimuli, but the results were ultimately the same.

"So why help me now? I'm gonna find things you don't want me to find. You know I will. You know what I'm trying to do."

The door opened, and lights directed Kit past Wren's office to a nearby door along the same wall. It opened as she approached, leading to a private bathroom and bathing area. Kit dumped her inner suit into one of the usual cleaning chutes, then let the shower blast into her until the water ran clear. Only when that happened did she finally step into the tub. 

This too was strange—at once smaller in area than the bathhouse down on her floor, with seats only for a few. 

Yet it was also bigger, with water that reached all the way to her neck when she sat down, and a middle deep enough to swallow her completely if she wanted.

Enjoyable anyway. The jets were a little stronger than her preference—but stepping inside was like reminding her body just how sore she should be. Everything started aching, soothed only by the enveloping warmth. 

She might've lay there for hours, if she had the time. But true to his word, Forerunner always had a way of keeping things on schedule.

This time, it was Wren, emerging through the side door with a bright bottle and a brush. "Hey Kit! Forerunner said you might need this."

She sat up in the water, ears folding backwards. Could she feel safe around someone different? Wren was too big to fit in the facilities downstairs.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Sorry about making your bath all slimy. I was working for a long time."

"I heard." The director circled around the room, removing a few oversized towels from a shelf. "I can help with that tail. Wash it out with this, then hop out. I'll make sure you get to the game."

It wasn't an order—no one ever sounded like that.

A few minutes later she was dry, wrapped tightly in the towel, and perched comfortably in Wren's lap. The director ran the brush through her tail, just firm enough to catch the worst tangles without hurting her.

Between the warm towel and the steam, Kit was in danger of falling asleep. She fidgeted in place, if only so the movement could keep her alert. "How do you know how tails work? Jay tried to help with mine a few times, but he's awful. His doesn't have any fur, so..." Kit turned, glancing back at Wren's tail. It was about as long as Sadie's, though with considerably less dexterity. All white except for a splash of black at the tip.

"When I'm downstairs. Forerunner is great at providing for their needs, but sometimes they want a human touch. He can care about us, protect us, provide for us—but never understand what it's like to be us. That's why there's an Institute at all, instead of individuals isolated in their research. We're supposed to be together."

She couldn't argue with Wren's logic, not with how profoundly comfortable she felt. "Living alone would be... terrible. Already did that once. Just me, the computer, and empty space in all directions."

"I remember the feeling," Wren said. "Never knowing if you would find another soul. An eternity in the lightless abyss, knowing that if you continued to an occupied star, you would be hunted and killed. Hiding meant surviving, but not living."

She lifted Kit from her lap, onto the bench. "Lay down so I can do the back."

In such a state of profound relaxation, Kit didn't need to fight her tail. It obeyed effortlessly, remaining limp so the director could finish.

Warm fingers were so much better than a rotating brush in the water! If only there were more residents on her floor with big tails, maybe they could work together.

"Sounds like you came from somewhere... different than me. I wasn't hiding, I wanted to be found."

"And you were. So that worked out." Wren fell silent for a few minutes, focusing on her work. Some tangles were serious enough to take effort—enough to get her fur relaxed, without tearing chunks out. But even if she couldn't speak out loud, there were other ways. Wren had an implant too. 

"Maddie says your rover will be ready to drive by next sunset. Is she being optimistic?"

Kit turned her head so she could look back, resting on her arm. "Probably. We won't know until we try to drive it. It's the simplest rover we could make."

"With a range of... two hundred kilometers," the Director continued. "Are you really going to use it?" Wren lifted the brush, then took her shoulder and eased her into a sitting position. "There you go, Kit. How's that feel?"

She wrapped the tail around to her front, running both hands through it. Smooth, soft and comfortable, the way she liked it. She grinned. "Perfect! I've never got it feeling this nice before. Can you teach me?"

"Sometime." Wren eyed the brush, now thickly tangled with red fur. Bits of grease and other slime clung to it, along with the occasional drop of blue blood. She tossed it into a nearby bin. 

"Yeah. If we can get it working in time. Plan is to go out as soon as the sun goes down, like we're doing a basic test. Only I'll drive it straight to Solstice. I should have lots of time to look around, do some interviews, and get back here before sunrise."

Wren crossed the room again, returning with a pile of clothes. Not Kit's usual—this was her costume for the game, right down to the exaggerated "armor," black stockings, and belt of "hacking tools." She set them down on the bench beside her. "Forerunner will think that's too dangerous. He won't let you."

Kit stood up, glaring defiantly back at the Director. "Can he stop me?"

The ermine turned her back on Kit, pacing over to the window. Kit dressed quickly, conscious of how little time must be left. If Forerunner sent her costume up here, it meant she must be running out. "He will try. But I can think of one way to make sure he doesn't."

Wren spun, grinning right back. "I could come with you. As a... supervisor. No matter how badly he might want to, Forerunner can't tell me no. Guess we're lucky he had to make you a replacement suit."

Kit's eyes went wide. She dropped the gloves before she could get them over her fingers. "You can do that?"

Wren made her way over, picked up the glove, and pulled it open for her. In a few seconds, Kit had it on tight. Wren did the other one too, and even helped with her hair. "I'm one of five people in the Institute certified to go out there. I'll get Maddie's help making any adjustments to the suit. I'm sure I'll be able to get my tail to fit!"

Wren gestured out the door. "Your friends are waiting. Have fun, squirrel! Then find somewhere nice and soft to sleep. I can see it in your face—you'll be out for a while."

Kit nodded. But before she left, she wrapped both arms around the ermine in a tight hug. "Thanks for helping me again! I think I'm figuring out why you're the director."

She giggled, holding Kit for a few seconds. "And you're already fitting in so well. I disagreed with Forerunner's decision to reduce your template... but I'm big enough to admit when I'm wrong." She held on a few seconds longer, seeming to know exactly when Kit would be ready to let go. "When you aren't on such an important mission, I'll teach you how to brush your tail properly. You know where to find me.”